


A Bend in His Road

by Ozdiva



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Neighbours, Sacrifice, Shirbert, Teaching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozdiva/pseuds/Ozdiva
Summary: Set at the End of Anne of Green Gables. Gilbert finally has a chance to get to know Anne, when will he realise he’s in love?
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

Black did not become her. That was Gilbert's first thought when he saw Anne standing by Matthew's graveside in the rain, fine droplets of water suspended on her veil like a cascade of tiny diamonds. Don't be ridiculous, he tamped his mind down hard. It's a funeral, fashion doesn't come into it. Yet there was a truth to it; Matthew who loved Anne in pretty dresses would never have approved. Gilbert said nothing then or ever, even when it took Anne months to graduate back to her usual wardrobe.

Standing in an unseasonal drizzle Gilbert's thoughts were for his friend first and foremost. The minister, Mr Allan, dolefully intoned the funeral rites while Anne and Marilla clasped each other for comfort, dry eyed and shaky. Gilbert had heard that Miss Cuthbert had been awful cut up about Matthew's passing, but he supposed she had managed to pull herself together for the service.

Gilbert had never thought much about death; its icy fingers had never laced around his heart. But he knew how close Anne and Matthew had been and had an inkling of how his death would affect her. Matthew Cuthbert had always been a sweet quiet gentleman. Gilbert had vague memories of him before he and his father had gone to Alberta and he knew that Matthew had helped his mother while they were away. Perhaps most memorable was how his eyes lit up whenever he saw Anne. In her presence he quite transformed, Gilbert wondered if anyone else had ever truly noticed.

Word had gone out across Avonlea when Matthew had collapsed. Never before had the quiet Matthew Cuthbert been the object of gossip but he was for that one brief moment, albeit in death. His passing and Marilla's dramatic response surprised the town folk. "Never thought Marilla Cuthbert had any emotions," said those who did not know her.

They talked about it over the Blythe dinner table that week. "She's emotional all right," said John Blythe ruefully.

"What do you mean Dad?" Gilbert asked.

John glanced at his wife, "it was a long time ago, son but there was a time when I suppose folks called us beaux."

Gilbert's cutlery dropped to the table with a clutter, "beaux? What went wrong? Er sorry Mum," he looked at her fondly and she smiled back.

"We quarrelled," John explained. "We both thought the other was at fault. She thought I'd come back and beg forgiveness, but I never did because I fell in love with your mother," he pulled her hand towards him and stroked it lovingly. "I admit though I did feel a bit sad for her over the years, she could have found someone else."

"No one could replace you, John," said Mrs Blythe with a smile.

He preened openly and replied, 'obviously not." Then more seriously he added, "feel right sorry for her now though. She and Matthew were so close, all those years living up there together just the two of them. It'll be awful lonely for her now that Anne's off to Redmond."

"We'll have to offer what help we can," Mrs Blythe said.

"She's proud, that's the problem, will she accept it?"

"Well we have to offer, whether she accepts it isn't the point."

"I suppose so," Mr Blythe nodded.

It had been a shock, no two ways about it when Gilbert's parents had sat him down the night he returned from Queens. After a wonderful year in a stimulating environment, with parties and dances and freedom he thought he had his life mapped out. He was off to Redmond to learn how to be a doctor. It was going to be a lot of work, but he'd be rewarded at the end. So, his father's dreaded words, "we can't afford to send it, son," sent an icy shiver through his heart. He'd had to be brave in front of them, he knew they were upset too so he'd said, "that's fine Dad, I completely understand," and shakily made his way upstairs and put his head in his hands as he sat on his old bed.

What were his prospects without school? He'd watched his father toil over the orchard year after year and never wanted to follow him down that path. When they heard the news that Miss Ames planned to leave the Avonlea School, he had a glimmering of hope. He could stay at home and save the money for Redmond next year.

The old school room still had the familiar smell of dried ink, chalk dust and boot polish. Gilbert sat crammed into a desk opposite the school trustees feeling very strange to be back in the old place. How many hours had he spent in it over the years? First with the lamentable Mr Phillips who spent all his time mooning over Prissy Andrews and then with inspiring Miss Stacy who shared her love of learning. He honestly hoped he could emulate her in some small way. Gilbert laid down his credentials with the trustees and they shook hands on it afterwards. It wasn't as good as Redmond, not by a long shot, but at least that establishment wasn't going anywhere. Once he'd saved enough money, he'd be able to catch up with his education. It wasn't what he'd planned when he left Queens, but it would do.

The next thing they heard Marilla was thinking about selling the old place to Mr Sadler from Carmody. "Can't believe it," Mr Blythe said. "There's been a Cuthbert living at Green Gables for as long as I can remember and more besides. Be mighty queer to have them gone."

I can't let that happen, Gilbert thought. Poor Anne has just lost Matthew, I can't let her lose her home as well. With that he contacted the school board and put his case before them.

"Mum, Dad," he said to them that night. "I have something to tell you. I hope you don't think I'm crazy, well I suppose I am a little bit. I'm going to teach at White Sands."

"White Sands?" said his mother. "But you were going to stay here with us and save up for Redmond. I was looking forward to having you here again and you'll have to pay board at White Sands you know. I thought the Avonlea school wanted you. What changed?"

"I did Ma. I asked to be moved. I heard that Anne Shirley decided to stay with Marilla and needed a job, so I spoke with the trustees again," he continued rubbing his knees ruefully, those desks were really uncomfortable. "I just couldn't let them lose the house so soon after Matthew. It wouldn't be fair."

"That's awfully generous of you son, it's not like you have money to splash around. I suppose," John looked at his wife. "I suppose we can help next year. Perhaps we can go halves on the fees even if we can't afford the whole lot."

Gilbert's eyes misted with tears, "are you sure, Dad? It's a lot of money. I know I must have disappointed you Ma."

"Disappointed me? By being a perfect gentleman. No indeed not, I was a bit shocked is all. But I think you've done a noble thing, son. I'm proud of you. Except you've put me into a bind now," she added jokingly. "We'll have to get you set up over there, that's something I hadn't envisaged."

He saw Anne a few days later, her distinctive her black mourning dress contrasted against the bright green grass. Interesting how stunning she was despite it; and nearly walked by her feeling a little embarrassed. She approached him saying, "Gilbert I want to thank you for giving up the school for me."

"I hope you don't mind me going behind your back, Anne."

"I admit I did get a bit of a surprise. I thought I had it all sorted and then Mrs Lynde told me you had swapped."

Gilbert watched her carotid artery pulse, it always made him swoon a little. "Sorry about that, I knew if I told you my plans you wouldn't let me go ahead. I had to do it this way."

"Very sneaky, Blythe. Very sneaky."

Gilbert grinned, "I can be when the mood strikes. I just couldn't let you and Miss Cuthbert be parted. I knew she'd need you near after everything that's happened and I hoped I could help."

Anne softened, "yes, she feels Matthew's loss keenly. She always complained that he was so quiet, but he was always there even if he didn't say much. When you think about it, they lived together longer than most married couples."

"Poor Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert murmured. "That's why I couldn't force you two apart. One day I guess you'll want to leave home, but let's give her some time to adjust."

"It's awful good of you Gilbert, we really appreciate it," she laughed shyly.

"I hope this means we can be friends, Anne? Can you finally forgive me?"

"We were always friends, I just seem to have forgotten it. I forgave you that day by the pond landing though I didn't know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I hope you can forgive me. I admit I got a shock when I heard you weren't going to be at Redmond this year. I need our competition to drive me forwards."

"I'm planning to study by correspondence," Gilbert admitted.

"Why I am too, so the rivalry can continue," Anne clapped her hands with glee. "That makes me so happy. I have to go, Marilla will be missing me, I hate to leave her alone in the evening, she gets awful lonesome."

"Where've you been son," his mother asked as he strolled in the gate looking like he'd just swallowed the moon.

"Chatting with Anne."

"How did she take it? Is she happy?"

"She thought I was very devious, but I think deep down she's happy. No, I take that back, she's delighted. We had a real nice talk Ma. The sort we haven't been able to have for years. We're going to work together to plan our lessons."

"Not nervous, are you?"

"Well a little, I never taught before. I reckon it might be easier for me being in White Sands they won't know me. Whereas Anne will be teaching children she knew a couple of years ago."

"Oh, yes, that's intimidating. I'm sure Anne will do a wonderful job of it though, don't you think?"

"Of course, Anne can do anything she puts her mind to." They walked down the path and sat on the veranda under the wisteria.

"I'm so sorry we had to upset your plans, son. You've taken it like an adult. It just cut your father up that we couldn't afford it. Once he'd done the sums, he just realised it was impossible and he was so upset. We knew you had your heart set on it."

"It's fine Ma. I admit I was a bit cut up at first."

"We know, when we watched you leave the room, I thought you might faint."

Gilbert smiled wanly, "I nearly did at that. I thought I had my life all set before you and Dad spoke. I prefer to think of this as a bend in the road, rather than a calamity. Now that I think about it, bends keep life interesting."

"You are so wise Gilbert," said his mother stroking his hair fondly. "not to mention generous. You've done us proud son."

"Oh Ma," Gilbert leaned in and hugged his mother tight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was a one shot but it turned out these characters had more to say.

"How about a field afternoon, Miss Stacy style?" Anne said enthusiastically, jotting another note down in her book. "I always found those charged my energy."

"Ma thought they were an interesting teaching technique," Gilbert replied carefully.

"Marilla thought they were crazy, and she wasn't much happier with the Christmas concert, it promoted 'gadding'," Anne said. "Matthew was enthusiastic, but not Marilla. Of course, I adored Miss Stacy and her inventive teaching style. If I'm half as good a teacher as she is, I'll be happy."

With textbooks sprawled out over a blanket on the Green Gables lawn, Gilbert and Anne were spending yet another afternoon lesson planning. They had decided that since they both had to spend their year teaching, they had better be well prepared. It was in neither of their natures to enter new situations unprepared.

Jane Andrews had a more laconic approach and laughed when they invited her to join them. She had sat with them on a couple of occasions but soon begged off saying, "you two are so driven. I think I'll take a gentle approach, if you don't mind." They had looked at her as she walked away and then at each other with a glint in their eyes before forgetting her altogether as they argued over the next big idea.

There had been a point a few weeks ago when Gilbert's future looked bleak, but it had turned into a wonderful summer; the season when Gilbert got to know the real Anne Shirley. Sure, he'd watched her from afar since that fateful day when she'd broken her slate over his head. Up until now they never really recovered from his mistake. Even when he rescued her from the pond, she had rebuffed his overtures. But finally, finally she was opening up to him and he got to know what he'd been missing out on all these years. And it was glorious. Anne was not only beautiful but wise, witty, clever, given to romantic notions. She loved nature and people and was not too ladylike to refuse the odd adventure.

He also became acquainted with Miss Cuthbert. She had taken him to one side shortly after he had given the Avonlea school to Anne to thank him. He had stood before her cap in hand somewhat embarrassed and looked into her piercing blue eyes, perceiving for the first time what his father might have seen in her. In her day Miss Cuthbert must have been a beauty, even now she was striking. She clasped both his hands and said, "Gilbert I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, it was a generous act."

"Not at all Miss Cuthbert, it was my pleasure," Gilbert replied. "After all you and Mr Cuthbert did to help Ma when Dad and I were away in Alberta, it was the least I could do."

"Well it is much appreciated, especially given the fact that the rent will eat into your savings, I know you'll need that money next year."

"It's fine, Dad said between us we'll manage the tuition fees. He just couldn't do it on his own. He lost a bit of money when the bank collapsed."

"That crash caused so much pain," Marilla said with a tear in her eye.

After that slightly awkward conversation they relaxed, and Gilbert grew to appreciate Marilla's sharp wit and big heart. He said as much to his father when he helped him with the milking one evening. "Oh, she's clever all right," his father had replied. "Rather felt I couldn't keep up with her."

"Don't tell me you were scared of her, Dad?" Gilbert turned away from the cow's flank to tease his father.

"Not exactly," John replied, sounding less than sure. He thought back to drive they'd taken all those years ago.

It had been spring and the cherry blossoms were falling from the trees along the Avenue. He had always liked it there at that time of year. Despite living on an orchard, he never tired of driving down that lane. As the son of an orchardist and a budding one himself, blossom held such promise.

Marilla had not noticed a few stray petals that had landed in her hair and when he pointed them out, she roughly swept them off. His father was giving him a plot of land to work as he wished, and he explained his plans for it. "First, I have to prepare the soil of course," he'd said. "Then I'm grafting some new varieties. Do you know what that means?" he asked eagerly, excited by his new project.

"No, but I suppose you're about to tell me," Marilla replied disinterestedly.

In his enthusiasm John did not notice and he plunged forward describing in great detail how he'd picked out two apple species one for its juiciness and the other for its sweet taste. "I have the seedlings under some glass by my bedroom window, where it's warm and they catch the light."

"Mm," said Marilla.

"Yeah, so what I'm planning is that shortly I'll start planting them out, so they get the benefit of the warm weather to grow. Of course, I won't get any sort of a crop for the first few years, these things take time. Dad says it's a real investment in the future. He's excited for me."

"That's it, that's your grand plan?" Marilla said sharply.

"What is that not good enough for you?"

"No, it's fine. Just fine. I mean if that's what you want to do with your life," she trailed off and pointedly looked away from him.

It was not the end of their relationship, but it was perhaps the beginning of the end.

* * *

Gilbert enjoyed watching the developing dynamic between Anne and Marilla. They were still finding their feet in their post-Matthew world, Anne relentlessly cared for Marilla as though the mother daughter relationship had flipped. She refused to stay out late for fear Marilla would be lonely and Gilbert soon learnt not to push her on that when they went on outings. The few times he did, Anne grew quite agitated and rushed into the house when he dropped her back home. If he followed her inside, Marilla would be quite matter of fact, but even he could see her delight despite her attempts to hide it. Matthew had lit up when Anne walked in and now Gilbert could see that Marilla had her own, albeit more subtle, version of that response.

Someone who did not know her well might have thought Marilla exhibited little love for Anne, but Gilbert soon saw that was far from the case. Even Marilla's gentle chiding was shot through with love. Anne would rush in declaiming her sorrow that they were five minutes late and Marilla would say, "fiddlesticks, Anne. Do you think I can't cope for a couple of hours without you, I'm not as helpless as all that?"

One afternoon they both rounded on him asking what on earth was so funny. He prevaricated, unwilling to concede that anything was out of the ordinary. He backed away palms up laughing that nothing was wrong. Eventually the combined Cuthbert will broke him and he told them what he'd witnessed, how they were together. "Well don't go telling anyone, if you please," Marilla said in mock seriousness. "I have a reputation to uphold, won't do any good having that upturned."

Gilbert grinned and grabbed the older lady in a hug, saying, "your secret is safe with me Miss Cuthbert."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Gilbert? You may call me Marilla." That habit though he found hard to break.

There were bonfires and dances and though Gilbert was not officially with Anne, they spent a fair bit of time together. Unbeknownst to them the town was talking, not always kindly about their developing relationship. There was still a bit of residual resentment about Anne, the lowly orphan girl who had come from goodness knows where and stolen the eye of the best-looking boy in town. Fortunately, Anne was above those low comments now, but Rachel heard the odd murmur, though wisely she decided to keep them to herself for once. She felt for sure if Marilla had caught word of it, the person responsible would find themselves on the wrong side of a tongue lashing. If there was one thing Marilla Cuthbert knew how to do it was to defend her precious girl.

* * *

Gilbert groaned inwardly when Anne had a brainwave one morning at his house. She gasped out loud and he asked, "what? What is it?"

"I just had the most wonderful idea. Stay here I have to ask Marilla."

"Marilla? Can't it wait Anne, I…" But Anne was off dashing down the path towards Green Gables. Jogging after her Gilbert was amused to see her run in a most unladylike manner all legs and arms, red hair streaming behind.

"Goodness gracious me, Anne, what on earth?" Gilbert could hear Marilla's shock at finding a breathless Anne inside her kitchen having waved her off not half an hour before.

"Marilla," panted Anne as she fought to get her breath back, "how about we host a bonfire? I can invite all the locals and see if Stella and Priscilla can come."

"A bonfire?" Gilbert arrived just in time to see the shock play across Marilla's face as she responded. "I'm not sure so soon after Matthew…"

"Oh," Anne paused for a moment, then continued, "Matthew would have loved it."

"I'm sorry, did you meet my brother?" Marilla countered.

Gilbert was unsurprised to find Marilla was less than enthusiastic about the idea, but she was soon carried away by Anne's zeal. Anne employed a cunning trick calling upon Marilla's sense of duty telling her that it was her turn to reciprocate all the party invitations she had received over the years. "We'll do all the work," Anne said reaching for Gilbert's unsuspecting hand. "You won't have to lift a finger dear Marilla."

True to her word Anne employed Diana and Gilbert to help with the planning and together they baked, cleaned and decorated the garden so that Green Gables looked very welcoming indeed. Gilbert and Anne dragged every piece of rubbish out of the barn and piled it up a distance from the house and placed hay bales and logs around for seats. Everyone was delighted to come, even Stella and Priscilla said they wouldn't miss it for all the world. Anne was particularly excited to introduce them to Diana.

Gilbert, Diana and Marilla stood with Anne making small talk in that strange moment when all the arrangements have been made and all you have to do is wait for your guests to arrive. Feeling a small tap to the top of his head, Gilbert put his hand up and felt dampness. In a minute the rain was drenching everything, and they could barely hear themselves talk over the din.

"Quickly Anne."

Marilla practically dragged Anne back towards the house where Anne wailed, "my party is ruined."

"Fiddlesticks," Marilla exclaimed. "Pull yourself together. Go upstairs and change, your guests will be here soon."

Gilbert was astonished. Having initially being reluctant to host, Marilla pulled out all stops. She and he donned raincoats and brought the food inside and tried their best to salvage what they could. "Since a bonfire is out of the question, we'll play parlour games instead," Marilla ordered.

"Er, yes I guess so," said Gilbert as he dried himself off. He thought later how interesting it was to see Anne fall to pieces and Marilla pick them up. They complement each other, he realised as he lay in bed exhausted.

It had been a wonderful party. Anne recovered her composure, and everyone joined together in adversity. Josie Pye with her customary ill will asked if it were a costume party, since Anne resembled a drowned rat. "I seem to have forgotten that part of the invitation," she said sarcastically. Even that was not enough to upset Anne who breezed past to introduce Diana to Stella and Priscilla. They all decided almost immediately that if Anne liked them, it made sense to be good chums. "For Anne," Priscilla said, "has estimable taste."

"A friend of Anne's is a friend of mine," Stella said as she linked Diana and Priscilla's arms in her own and they claimed the parlour sofa as their own.

Gilbert found himself caught in conversation with Josie at one point when she cornered him in the kitchen. Once upon a time he had quite liked Josie, while they were young before Anne arrived in town. "I hear you've been spending time with Anne this summer, Gilbert," Josie said slyly. "I don't know what you see in her?"

"If you dislike her so much, I can't imagine why you decided to come, Josie," Gilbert replied.

"I wasn't going to, but when I saw the big black clouds on the horizon I changed my mind. She's so full of her herself, I wanted to see her brought down a peg."

"Brought down? Josie, her father died a few months ago."

" _Father_?" said Josie. "I mean not really father, not like our parents are our parents."

Gilbert fought a strong compulsion to strike Josie deciding instead to do the next best thing. Green Gables was crowded enough as it was, if Josie was here under ill pretences she may as well leave. Grabbing her by the elbow Gilbert forcefully steered her towards the door. "What? Ow, Gilbert," though her cries were muted over the hubbub as he practically threw her out the door and she stood in the rain looking in.

"What, am I a stray cat to throw out?"

"Your words not mine," Gilbert said abruptly as he shut the door in her face leaving her standing in the steady downpour.

* * *

Gilbert came upon Anne crying softly one morning and stood in the doorway watching her unsure of what to do. She looked up and smiled through her tears, "I'm sorry," she said. "It takes me unawares sometimes."

"Mr Cuthbert?" he asked walking over to her.

She patted the seat next to her and he sat down proffering his handkerchief. "I just wish I'd known him for longer. I only got to enjoy his company for such a short time. If I just had some earlier memories, that might help. Do you remember him?"

"From before you came?" Anne nodded. "Well, let me see. He was pretty reserved you know." Anne smiled through her tears. "I remember," Gilbert started, "one summer's day Dad and I went swimming down at the beach in a private cove we use. There's nothing like a refreshing bathe after a hot day's work, you know." He glanced across and found she was listening with rapt attention. "I was only about eight or so, but you know you feel very grown up around that age. It was just Dad and I playing in the water. I was riding on Dad's shoulders and he'd trip, and I'd fall in. We were having a great time when I looked up and saw Mr Cuthbert approaching. His face was pink, and his chest was pretty sweaty. Dad let me fall in and took a step towards him to shake his hand. I hadn't quite got my footing, maybe I was in slightly too deep and Mr Cuthbert bypassed Dad to pull me out of the water. I don't think I was going to drown exactly, but I was a bit panicky. We played a bit more quietly after that and Mr Cuthbert and Dad had a chat about their farms and how things were going. It was nothing really, but I always had the feeling that he saved my life that day."

"Gilbert," Anne said in awe. "I never knew that story. Matthew never said."

"Well he wouldn't, would he? He wasn't the type to brag. I suppose he'd forgotten all about it, but I never did."

* * *

In between their gadding about the harvest had to be brought in. Marilla found it emotional to bring in Matthew's last crop. They were assisted by Gilbert's father and Mr Barry sent some men over to help. Gilbert nudged Anne to tell her that Marilla had stopped work one afternoon. Anne glanced over to see Marilla's shoulders heaving with sobs. "It's ridiculous, they'll think I'm being soppy," Marilla said as Anne led her away.

"They think no such thing," Anne replied, rubbing Marilla's back up at the house. "You are entitled to mourn. It hits me at odd moments too."

Marilla looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, "yes, I'll be feeling fine and then the grief slams into me so hard I'm almost breathless. But it's most awful when it happens in public like that."

"You're such a private person, Marilla. But these are our friends, darling. They certainly won't judge you harshly for showing that you are human after all. I'll fetch you a cool glass of water and when you feel better you can return to work, just take your time."

"Is she quite well?" John asked Anne when she returned alone.

"Just grieving. Can you do me a favour, Mr Blythe?"

"Of course."

"Don't say anything. She feels embarrassed enough by her outpouring, there's no need to mention it again, if you take my meaning."

"I wouldn't, except I think she needs to know that what she's feeling is perfectly natural," John replied.

"I know it and you know it, but Marilla never likes to be regarded as vulnerable. Please Mr Blythe don't mention it, just for me." John nodded his assent. Wishing that it were otherwise but acknowledging that it was too late to change Marilla's inclination at this late stage.

* * *

With the start of the school year drawing closer Gilbert and Anne met with Jane as they all grew more nervous. Anne was concerned with the idea of teaching former classmates hoping she would not have any issues maintaining order. Jane announced that she would employ corporal punishment if she had any problems. Thus spake one who had never been hit, but Anne who had endured more than her fair share of unwarranted whippings in her childhood knew it would be impossible for her to strike a child.

Gilbert spoke of it privately when he took Anne home, "why have you taken such a stance, Anne?" Anne looked down and fiddled with her hair for a little bit shifting uncomfortably. She turned from him, her face blushing scarlet and rushed upstairs. Marilla got up from her chair in the parlour, apologised on Anne's behalf and followed her up the stairs leaving Gilbert standing in the kitchen. He looked around, waited for a while and went home quite puzzled by the situation.

With Anne's permission Marilla talked to him afterwards. "Gilbert, I speak to you now because Anne asked me to. It's still too raw for her even after all this time. Take a seat, son," she said and waited until Gilbert had scraped a kitchen chair out and sat down.

"Anne was beaten before she came here. Often and brutally," she said abruptly looking keenly into his eyes. "You have to understand whipping is not an academic concept for her. She was abused in a way no child deserves. Sometimes," she said thinking back, "Mrs Lynde suggested whipping Anne, just in the usual way, you know. But I never could, and I know now considering her very tangible experience that I made the right decision. I knew I could never hit a child, but I certainly couldn't, shouldn't have punished such an emotional child as Anne in that way, especially given her background."

Gilbert's eyes filled with tears at the very thought and Marilla gave him time to recover. "I, I never knew," he stammered.

"No, well we don't talk about it much. I hope you won't spread this around, Gilbert, we're trusting you here. You seem like a nice boy, a dependable boy, Anne hoped her secret would be safe with you. When I think about it, she was so very lucky to come to us when she did. It's incredible that she's so happy and well normal isn't the right word for a girl as eccentric as our Anne, but you know what I mean."

Gilbert nodded, "she's not bitter?"

"Exactly, she exhibits no bitterness towards her earlier homes. I won't call them families they were anything but. Now having told you this, Anne is most keen that you won't treat her any differently."

"I wouldn't," Gilbert protested.

"No, I don't expect you would. She's just the same person you've known all along. She just wanted to give you some background for her opinion. We had a long chat about it last night."

"She did seem upset when we parted, I had no idea why."

"That's why we felt I had to say something. I hope you don't think less of her for making me do the talking."

"Not at all, Miss Cu er Marilla. In fact, I think I prefer it this way, can you tell her that? It was almost easier to hear it second hand. I would hate for her to think she upset me."

"I understand, it's easier at a bit of a remove."

"Yes, I suppose that's it."

"It's not easy for me either, I hate the thought of anyone beating my girl. It makes me, makes me so sad that anyone could think she ever deserved it. Sure, she had her flights of fancy as a child, but now I know that was her way of coping. Her imagination was her escape, her survival."

"She was young when her parents died, wasn't she?"

"Just three months. I feel a such an affinity with her mother despite having never met her. We are the two women who love Anne more than anything else in the whole world. I feel as though she left me a legacy and it's my role to take up that mantel. She brought Anne into the world and it's my job to finish the task of bringing her up. If only," Marilla sighed, "if only she had come to us sooner."

"That's not your fault, Marilla," Gilbert tried to ease her pain.

"My head knows you speak the truth, my heart not so much. Still Matthew and I did what we could when she finally made it to Green Gables. We let her have a childhood. We couldn't undo what had gone before, all that was possible was to make her secure. Anyway," Marilla said by way of rounding off their conversation. "I just wanted to let you know Anne isn't being soft when she says she never wants to whip a pupil, there's more to it than that. In fact," she said thinking it through. "When Anne displays a quirk or unusual opinion there's usually a reason for it hidden somewhere in her past. Something she may not even be aware of herself. I did my best by her, but there are some things that can't be undone," Marilla sighed. "I don't know what will happen with the two of you, Gilbert. But she's not a straightforward person, she's complicated."

"But lovely regardless," said Gilbert with tears in his eyes.

Marilla glanced across at him, "you're a good boy, Gilbert. She is lucky to have a friend like you."

"Almost as lucky as she was to be adopted by you and Mr Cuthbert?" Gilbert said with a smile.

"Almost as lucky as that," replied Marilla with a glint in her eye.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing at the front of the class in the White Sands schoolroom that first day Gilbert looked out at the sea of faces looking expectantly up at him smaller ones at the front and some lads almost as grown as he up the back. "I," then his voice gave out and he had to clear his throat. He started again, desperate to make a good impression on his first day. Thankful he'd used the privy he rather wished he'd done the other thing as well as now his guts appeared to have turned to water.

He'd scoffed at Anne's plans to prepare a short speech as being rather over keen, but now as his mind went completely blank, he wished he'd done something similar if only to have some inkling what he might say next. Summoning the spirit of Muriel Stacy he took a deep breath and said, "Good morning my name is Mr Blythe," he turned and picked up a stick of chalk immediately calmed by the familiar smooth shape in his fingers and wrote his name on the board, cursing when the chalk split in half. Relax Blythe, he thought. You've got this.

* * *

Cora had been to town to pick up the mail and run a few errands. As it was a nice day John had offered to drive, but she preferred to walk. It was really too soon to expect a letter from Gilbert, but she was delighted to find a couple of envelopes had arrived one for them and one for Anne. She smiled thinking how different the two letters were bound to be.

Rounding the corner initially she thought someone had dropped a pile of clothes by the side of the road and upon going to investigate was dismayed to find Marilla Cuthbert crumpled up weeping. "Marilla, my dear whatever is the matter?" Marilla was distraught, her whole body heaving with sobs, tears and snot tracking openly down her face. Seeing that she was beyond speech, Cora knelt down in the dust and held her close but said no more. It was obvious what the matter was after all. Silently she rubbed Marilla's back. Eventually after what seemed like an age Marilla's sobs died down and she sighed and took the handkerchief Cora proffered. Its properties were quickly overwhelmed, and Cora said apologetically, "I don't know why women's handkerchiefs are so dainty, do you? It's almost as though by their insufficiency someone is saying our grief must be circumscribed." Marilla gave her a wan smile and made as if to give the damp strip of material back and then remembered and said shakily, "no I suppose you don't want it quite yet do you. I'll launder it first."

"If you don't mind," Cora replied smiling gently.

"I must apologise," Marilla said.

"Why on earth should you?"

"I shouldn't, mustn't..."

"Shouldn't grieve? Oh, my dear I must disagree most vehemently on that score. You must, grieving is healthy."

"I just feel overwhelmed is all."

"Come, my house is not far. Let's get you out of the sun and have a cup of tea. You must be thirsty." Cora helped her with her packages and Marilla allowed herself to be led into a house she had not visited since that last argument decades before.

It had changed as she supposed it must. No longer was it old Mrs Blythe's, that house had been rather dark as she recalled. Now it was bright, airy and welcoming. "Come into the parlour, Marilla. It's more comfortable there. Just give me a minute." Marilla looked around the room, spying John's old hat that he'd bought years ago. She'd teased him for it, calling it somewhat foppish. Disconcerted by the placement of the sofa she decided to sit in an armchair.

"Thank you," said Marilla when Cora poured the tea. "So silly to break down like that, it comes over me so strongly at times. You'd think I'd be getting over it by now."

"It's still early days, Marilla. You had Matthew by your side for years."

"Forever."

"Absolutely. You can't expect to recover from his loss in a matter of weeks," said Cora soothingly.

"No, but I should be able to cope rather better than it seems right now. I've never been the emotional sort."

"But you have emotions all the same."

"Yes, that's true, I appreciate you acknowledging it. I feel I am constantly thanking the Blythe family these days. And I must thank you for Gilbert's kind gesture. It really changed my life. I had feared I'd have to lose the house, that Anne would have no home to return to after Redmond. Yet I know it can't have been easy for you."

"No need to thank me," said Cora rustling around in her pantry for cake. "It was Gilbert's initiative. I must say," she added with a sigh, "that breaking the news that we couldn't afford to send him to Redmond was one the of hardest things we've ever had to do. Poor John knew about it for a while before me of course. I knew something was wrong, but he hadn't divulged."

"Mm," said Marilla around a mouthful of cake.

"John had some money tied up in the Abbey Bank as I believe Matthew did." Marilla nodded. "And it hadn't been a wonderful crop. He did his sums over and over trying to extract any extra funds, but it just wasn't possible. He knew Gilbert wouldn't want us to struggle while he was studying. Still, telling him wasn't easy. I thought he was going to faint he fairly ran out of the room, poor lad. John feels like such a failure."

"A failure? John?" said Marilla in surprise.

"Well you know, you want to do right by your children. We only have the one and he couldn't even afford that. Gilbert's never been all that interested in the work here, we've always known he had wider ambitions. Not like us, hm Marilla. John said you were so smart back in the day, and I suppose you still are," she added when Marilla started to react. "Such a shame there was no outlet. Farm life isn't exactly the most stimulating is it."

"No," sighed Marilla. "It isn't. At first," she said thinking back. "I tried to get my hands on some books which really, we couldn't afford, but I was forced to give up in the end. I suppose I retreated from the world, losing myself in the housework was less painful. I'd be there still if it weren't for Anne."

"Your Anne is the most delightful creature. I have enjoyed getting better acquainted with her this summer," Cora said. "She gives Gilbert a run for his money, which is no bad thing in my opinion."

"I suppose that's how it started for them, wasn't it?"

"The slate?" asked Cora.

"Mm hm," laughed Marilla. "An inauspicious beginning."

"He may have been bigger than me, but I bent that boy over my knee and gave him a good spanking after that little stunt," Cora said. "Outrageous behaviour on his part, simply outrageous. Poor Anne and on her first day too."

"Sounds like a day to remember, or forget," said Marilla with a smile. "Poor Gilbert he bit off more than he could chew."

"Indeed, he did. He was most contrite afterwards. I don't blame Anne one little bit for refusing to talk to him again."

"Well we Cuthbert women were always known for our stubbornness," Marilla said thoughtfully and trailed off into an uncomfortable silence. After a pause both women started to talk. Marilla went first. "I apologise," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. I haven't been in this room for decades," she said almost changing the subject. "It's lovely."

"I wish we'd been better friends," Cora said. "I always felt as though there were something between us."

"John," said Marilla abruptly. "John came between us. Let's not beat around the bush." Feeling there was nothing left to say she made her thanks and gathered her parcels. Cora handed her Gilbert's letter to Anne and Marilla walked out with as much dignity as she could manage. Once she got a little way from the house, she stopped and leant against a tree to regain her composure. That had turned into a more difficult conversation than she was up to just now, truth be told.

* * *

John asked Cora how her day had been, and she told him about her visitor. "Poor Marilla, grief is a journey isn't it," he replied.

"It is at that. We had a nice chat for the most part."

John leaned against the kitchen bench and asked, "what does that mean?"

"Well you know we've always had a strained relationship. I felt I should have been closer with her all these years yet my feelings towards her have been complicated."

"What's the complication?" John asked.

Cora looked at him in some shock, "really? Are you that clueless John Blythe?" He looked at her quizzically. "You, you are the complication, a fact Marilla hit upon straight off and then departed. Even now it's too much for us to discuss."

"Explain?" John asked.

"It's complex," Cora started. "I could never quite decide if I felt jealous or hurt by your relationship. I mean she rejected you, yet if she had not you wouldn't have found me. But then I also felt rather sorry for her, living up there at Green Gables with her brother. That can't have been much fun, passionless. Though being independent from a man has its own benefits."

"Goodness," John said embracing her. "Who knew you could have so many feelings about one lady who lives up the lane."

"You don't know women very, well do you?"

"It's a life-long lesson my darling, life-long." He walked over to her and caressed her shoulder tenderly. "You know you needn't feel jealous." She turned into him for a moment and leant into his chest, then remembered and said, "dinner, I just have to…" but he pulled her into a kiss and the thought was lost. Later he removed the pot from the stove and led her up the stairs to make sure the lesson was clear.

* * *

Marilla walked home in a bit of a daze. She sat down on her kitchen chair heavily unwilling to think too hard about what she and Cora had touched upon. Anne found her there, sitting in the cool room, staring vacantly into the middle distance. "Marilla? Are you quite well? What's the matter?" Marilla shook her head and looked around noticing that the shadows had gotten longer. "I…"

"The stove is out, let me get it sorted and then I'll make you a cup of tea," Anne prattled on giving Marilla the space to return to the present. "Want to tell me about it?" Anne asked after Marilla had sipped her tea.

Marilla sighed heavily, looked keenly at the young woman and shook her head. "Tell me something happy instead," she said. Anne glanced at her briefly, her mother was upset that much was certain, but she could hardly force her to talk. Hopefully she'd reveal the problem in due course.

After dinner they sat quietly in the parlour while Anne corrected lessons and Marilla stared into the fire. "It's just I had a rather an unsettling conversation with Mrs Blythe today," Marilla said out of the blue. Anne listened silently. "I want to do the Christian thing and let bygones be bygones, but it is not easy. It's all so long ago, but it would seem my emotions are not far from the surface when it comes to John Blythe. It's a hard thing to make a mistake and never be given the chance to make good." Anne dropped her pen, rushed over to Marilla and took her in her arms as she broke down against her shoulder.

* * *

Gilbert stretched his back against his uncomfortable chair. He was going to have to do something about it if he wanted to save his spine this year. Picking up young Katie McDonald's essay he skimmed it lightly. Her handwriting and spelling were still uncertain, but he was able to get the gist. His mind wandered back to that sunny afternoon when he and Anne had discussed this most important of questions, ergo what to set as this first assignment

When he suggested the question 'describe your family', Anne wisely reminded him that might be somewhat fraught; she would have found it hard to answer back in the day. Her suggestion was to ask them about their favourite season, but he had settled upon their 'favourite day in the summer vacation'. "Yes that would work too, I guess," she'd capitulated. One of his few victories, he recalled with a smile. Friendship with Anne Shirley had its advantages, but her competitive nature never let up.

 _My favwit day wos the day we git a dug. The dug is cald Kip_ started Katie. Honestly, Gilbert thought, if I start marking this, it will be a sea of crosses. Instead he decided to just write, 'Well done Katie. I hope I can meet Kip one day.' After all the point of the assignment was to see where his students were up to, not to demoralise them before they'd begun.

He sighed and looked around his room. His mother had done her best to bring a little bit of home over for him, but there was no denying he was lonely. If he had stayed in Avonlea, he'd be cosying by the fire with his parents now. He ignored the niggling voice that said, 'or studying the anatomy text at Redmond,' that had been a pipe dream. Anyway, he knew he had done the right thing, but he couldn't say it wasn't difficult at times.


	4. Chapter 4

It had to be said that the young ladies of White Sands thrilled to hear that their school was to be taught by none other than the dashing Gilbert Blythe. He was of course known to them, albeit previously from afar. When the announcement was made at the beginning of the school year small groups of women could be seen huddled in groups chattering excitedly. Various beaus were unamused, "what has he got that we haven't?" they asked.

When Gilbert arrived in town his landlady was proud to announce that he was residing at her establishment. It was not uncommon to find women deciding that their regular walk might be made more interesting if a stroll down that street were included on their route.

Gilbert believed that the townsfolk of White Sands were a welcoming bunch and accepted the first few invitations he received with pleasure. He met one giggling young lady after another. Every night there seemed to be another dance on at the hotel. Being a popular tourist destination made the town far busier than he was used to and sometimes he wondered how anyone got anything done. Forced by the amount of work he had to do; school marking and his own studies he had to start refusing invitations, much to the collective disappointment of many young ladies. The boys seemed a bit standoffish, he decided but the women are enthusiastic. It wasn't until much later when he mentioned it to Priscilla that he understood the situation. "Silly boy," she explained to him. "The boys are jealous, and all the girls are smitten."

"Smitten? With me?" Gilbert queried. "What on earth for?"

"I wonder if your father was quite as clueless as you are?" Priscilla mused staring at him. "Is it a family trait?"

"Pris, what on earth are you on about now?" Gilbert asked.

"Look," Priscilla tried to explain with exaggerated patience. "I don't know if you've ever noticed it, but you are relatively handsome you know. Just because Anne refuses to acknowledge it…"

"Anne?" said Gilbert hotly, his colour rising.

"Yes, Anne Shirley, I've seen how you look at her, Gilbert Blythe."

"Anne is nothing to me," he replied.

"Hmm," said Priscilla looking at him pointedly. "Very well if you say so."

"You don't sound remotely convinced."

"No, well there's a reason for that, but if you can't see it, I'll leave it for now," she said patting him on the hand.

* * *

With a groan Gilbert lay back on his bed and listened to it creak under his weight. It was a noisy old thing complaining every time he twitched and usually waking him up when he turned over. He had had a wonderful weekend back home. His mother always put on a good spread and fussed over him which he pretended he found embarrassing, but in actuality he did enjoy.

This weekend past he had caught up with Anne and Marilla who had invited him to dinner. His heart swelled when he saw the familiar green gabled roof through the trees, and he straightened his collar before he walked up to the front door. Anne was there to greet him enthusiastically and even Marilla gave him a warm smile. They really did make him feel welcome. Foolish to think he could be homesick when he was such a short ride away, but there it was.

Laughing about their respective pupils over the dinner table, Gilbert felt the warm glow of companionship but on this occasion, there was something different. It was indefinable but it was there. Did Anne look any different? Gilbert took a few shy glances her way, but she looked as beautiful as ever, perhaps more so, but not for any reason he could identify. Priscilla's words echoed in his mind, but he shook them off.

Gilbert had noticed Anne the first day they met. Her red hair and distinctive personality so different to the bland girls with whom he'd grown up. A few years away had done nothing to make them more interesting either. The fact that Anne repelled his advances only made her more intriguing. Perhaps his attempts to gain her attention had been counterproductive, he certainly never expected she'd react so forcefully and hold her grudge for so long; but he knew how to play the long game.

As soon as he saw the golden glow of Green Gable's lamplit windows one spring evening Gilbert's mouth went dry. Swallowing repeatedly, he knocked on the door and pulled on his tie repeatedly while he heard footsteps approaching. What was wrong with him? It was just dinner with Anne and Marilla, nothing unusual in that. It would be a nice meal in good company, such as he'd enjoyed for weeks now. He shivered slightly though he did not think the cool breeze was to blame. "Gilbert! Come in," Marilla smiled broadly, and he walked into the warm kitchen tripping on the doorstep on the way. "Oops a daisy," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Miss er Marilla," Gilbert said looking back at the offending step although it had never troubled him before. Marilla looked at him quizzically, he hadn't stumbled over her name for weeks.

Dinner went off well enough he supposed though he found his appetite deserted him entirely. Dessert was where it all went awry. He made the mistake of glancing up at Anne when she handed him his plate and became entranced by her caratoid again. That little pulse on the side of her neck always intrigued him and he stared at it instead of her hand and as a result completely missed the fact that he was supposed to grasp the plate. He only came to when the bowl smashed on the floor.

"Oh," Anne looked at him in some confusion and Marilla glanced over at him from the kitchen table, "anything the matter?"

"No, I that is to say, no I just …"

"I'm sorry Marilla, it was my fault," Anne said covering for him though she looked his way quizzically. It should have been a straightforward pass. "What was that about," she hissed at him.

"No idea," he whispered back clutching and reclutching his recalcitrant hand.

"Never mind," Marilla whisked in with a new bowl which she placed in front of Gilbert with an authoritative thump rather than risking handing it to him. While she was doing that Anne had bent down to scoop up the offending mess of shards of china, cream and apple pie strewn across the floor.

"I really am sorry, Mi er Marilla," said Gilbert apologetically.

"No matter," replied Marilla taking a spoonful of pie. "It was an honest mistake I'm sure."

"It looked like a nice bowl," said Gilbert when he had swallowed his first delicious mouthful. It had been her mother's and now Marilla no longer had a full set, so she was a little bit upset but there was no need to take it out on the boy; something was definitely off about him tonight.

They managed to salvage the night and had a good chat over coffee, sharing outlandish stories about their respective students. Anne was still struggling with Anthony Pye but Gilbert's young students seemed on the whole to be responding well to his teaching style. "I don't think, er that is to say, I do think," Gilbert had made the rookie mistake of looking at Anne when he spoke. He was finding it easier to stare into the fire tonight. "That I'm finally getting through to them and what's more their parents. They were rather dubious initially."

When he eventually stumbled out the front door Marilla turned to Anne, "what was all that about?"

"Do you mean what was up with Gilbert?" Anne replied.

"Yes, he was all over the place, I do hope he's not coming down with something."

"There's a thought. I wonder if I should accompany him home?" Anne said. She tweaked the curtains wondering if she might still see him on the road but there was no movement.

"He hasn't far to go, I'm sure he will be fine," said Marilla. "Now will you help me with the dishes, and I think the floor could do with another wipe," she said looking down at the offending damp patch.

Anne reluctantly turned around, "if you think he'll be safe," she said.

"He was a bit off, wasn't he? It wasn't my imagination then? Still I don't want you running out at this hour, Anne. I doubt he'll come to any harm."

As soon as he left the house Gilbert practically ran home, slowing to a jog halfway along the road. What was wrong? He'd broken Miss Cuthbert's bowl, stammered, rambled and made such an idiot of himself. Anne was sure to think he was a fool now. He thought of her then, of the little pulse at the base of her neck and gulped. It was pitch dark, but he could still see it as plain as day, pulse, pulse, pulse. Blythe, get a grip, what is wrong with you?

* * *

"We had Gilbert over for dinner last night. He was in a fine state," Marilla told Rachel when she came to tea the next day.

"What do you mean?"

"He was all fingers and thumbs, tripped getting in here, clearing his throat repeatedly, stumbling over his words. Kept calling me Miss Cuthbert even though I've told him dozens of times to call me Marilla and he managed it fine before. He even dropped his dessert bowl and we had to make a new dish for him. He was all over the place, Anne and I were most perplexed. I do hope he is quite well" Rachel rolled her eyes. "What? Why are you reacting like that? Anne and I were a little bit worried about him."

"Truly? You truly don't know what the matter was?"

"No? Do you? How could you? You weren't even there. Tea?"

"Yes, I must have fortification and a cookie if you have one please."

She waited until Marilla was seated in front of her and the tea was poured rather relishing the power experience gave her over Marilla in this moment. It was not often she witnessed her assured friend so discombobulated.

"Well?" Marilla urged as Rachel affected an innocent look. "C'mon. What is it? Aren't you going to divulge?" Rachel sipped her tea and broke her cookie with an audible snap and sniffed loudly. "Honestly Rachel only you could act so dramatically, you're so droll you should go on stage." Rachel grinned wildly with a twinkle in her eye as she cocked her head as if she were bowing. "Rachel!" Marilla was a bit infuriated; when was she going to come out with it?

"Love," said Rachel waving half her cookie with dramatic flair. "The boy is in love."

"Love? And with whom may I ask?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Marilla. You can't see the wood for the trees, he's in love with Anne."

"Anne!" Marilla felt her blood run cold. "Anne is too young for love."

"Anne may well be, but Gilbert is not it would seem."

"Oh my," Marilla looked at Rachel. "Oh my, oh my."

With a snap Rachel popped the last of her cookie into her mouth and chewed with the satisfaction of news well delivered while Marilla looked at her with mounting dismay.


	5. Chapter 5

One Sunday afternoon Marilla, Anne and the twins knocked on the Blythe door and invited Gilbert to come for a walk. The air was cool but crisp and Gilbert was tired of marking. Winding his scarf around his neck he walked out, closing the door behind him. Davy was excited to have him with them, "girls are so boring, Gilbert. Us men need company," he said assertively. Gilbert grinned at the small boy who walked beside him for a few paces before he grabbed a stick and started running around bashing the tree trunks. Gilbert glanced across at Marilla, but she seemed to be taking it in her stride. "It does him good to use some energy. Rather those trees than my crockery," she said over Davy's war whoops.

"I suppose I was the same at his age," replied Gilbert.

"No doubt," said Marilla.

Gilbert looked around and found Dora walking quietly a few paces behind Marilla and Anne. He dropped back to talk to her, there was something about her that intrigued him. He wondered what it must be like to be a twin. "Dora," he said. "May I walk with you?"

Dora looked up at him, nodded shyly and put her hand in his when he offered it. Gilbert had to stoop slightly to reach her, which was a bit uncomfortable, but not as much as the silence that followed it. C'mon Blythe, he thought. You're a teacher, think of something to say. Before he could come up with something Dora said, "do you miss Avonlea, Mr Blythe?"

"Please call me Gilbert," he felt like Marilla asking him to do likewise. Dora looked up at him and nodded. He realised he still hadn't answered her question and said, "yes, I do sometimes. I miss my parents. It's a bit silly, I suppose I'm a grown man."

"I miss my mama," said Dora quietly.

"I'm sure you do," Gilbert's heart melted. "Can you tell me about her?"

He watched as Dora's face became animated while she described her recently deceased mother. "She sounds lovely," said Gilbert. "You must miss her very much."

"I do, but I know we are lucky Marilla adopted us. I'm not sure where we would have gone if we hadn't come here. I love Marilla," she said somewhat dutifully. "And Anne," she added after a beat which Gilbert noted.

"Are you happy here?" he asked.

"Oh yes, and I'm looking forward to school very much. I know I shouldn't but sometimes I get a little lonesome. I'm looking forward to meeting some new little girls. I mean I'm never alone 'zactly. I have Davy but…" she looked towards her brother as he whacked another tree, the sound echoing around them.

"I completely understand," Gilbert said and he did too. Sometimes growing up he'd wished for a sibling, but he could see that Davy might not be exactly great company for Dora. He had a feeling that at times she might almost despise him.

"What do you like Dora? Do you like playing with dollies or reading?"

"We never had enough money for dolls or books," said Dora. "I just play with whatever I can find. Though," she added staring after Davy, "sometimes Davy wrecks my things, probably because he's bored," she said by way of explanation.

"Did you have a nice walk, son?" Cora asked him when he came home.

"I did, I had a nice chat with little Dora."

"Mm," said his mother as she stirred the pot. "Marilla was good to take in those twins. Davy reminds me of you at that age, Marilla must find him a right handful."

"He is, he totally runs over Dora. I feel a bit sorry for her."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"They seem to ignore her over there. He demands and gets all the attention while she just fades into the background, but I think if she had a chance she might really bloom," Gilbert explained.

"You're a sweet boy to think of her, Gilbert. But I'm sure she will be just fine."

Lying in his bed later that night he thought of his conversation with Dora but what he most remembered was the feeling of her soft little hand in his own. It made his heart tighten a bit and he hoped one day that he would have a daughter of his own with whom to hold hands. It seemed like such a sweet thing.

~ ~ ~

"Mr Blythe!" Gilbert was just on his way out the door when he was accosted by a group of young women. He dipped his hat to them and said, "sorry I must be on my way."

"It's just there's a dance on Monday night, and I was hoping you might accompany me," said one bold girl. Gilbert had noticed this one before, her name was, was what was it? Clara or Mara or something like that. "I'm afraid I'm far too busy," he said trying to get out of it.

"All work and no play Mr Blythe is bad for the soul, or so they say," Mara or Clara said, suggestively fitting her arm in his. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? I'm sure you won't mind if I accompany you?" Gilbert had no choice but to let the girl, what was her name? go along with him, though it was not particularly convenient. She prattled on, "my sister is in your class you know, Prudence McDonald. She says she's never had a teacher quite like you before. Although just between you and I, I think she might have a teeny bit of a schoolgirl crush, that might account for her grades." Gilbert thought about the last paper Prudence had submitted, that might go some way to explain the poor quality of her work. "Er yes, Prudence," he replied. "Your sister is one of my best students," he lied. In reality the girl was inattentive and prone to spread scurrilous rumours for which he had had to upbraid her on several occasions. "Well she's just a silly young schoolgirl of course," said Clara/Mara, it was driving Gilbert crazy trying to recall. He was relieved when someone called out to her across the street, "Sarah! Where are you taking poor Mr Blythe?"

Sarah preened openly and said back, "he's taking me, I'll have you know." She turned to Gilbert and asked, "where are we going anyway? I hope it's nowhere indecent?" she laughed with a false high tone, the type that always got on his nerves. She reminded him of Josie Pye.

"I have to take some books back to the library," he explained.

"The library?" Sarah sneered, dropping his arm like it was a carpet snake. A poor metaphor he thought, but under the circumstances admissible, after all he had not sought her company. "I wouldn't be caught dead in a library," she said. Gilbert was not surprised, judging by her younger sister the family did not seem the literary type. "Well then I shall bid you farewell," he said, ever the gentleman. "And I must apologise for I am far too busy to accompany you to the dance. A teacher's work is never done. Can't let your sister or her classmates down can I?" He bent his head marginally and went on his way relieved to have gotten rid of her.

The library had a nice stock of picture books. Reminded of his conversation with Dora the other day Gilbert picked one up and thumbed through it idly. He added a few to his pile and tucked them into his briefcase.

As he stood in his classroom after the Christmas break, Gilbert felt heartened by the fact that over in Avonlea Anne would be standing in front of her class saying pretty much the same thing. They did not always work in unison, but that weekend had decided that this was a fun lesson. Not surprisingly Anne had been particularly enthusiastic. Gilbert looked out over the faces of his now familiar pupils mentally taking stock of the children who would enjoy the exercise and those who might struggle. He turned around and wrote on the board, 'Metaphors'. Turning back, he saw them all read the word, understanding dawning on the older ones and curiosity on the younger. "Who knows what a metaphor is?" he asked.

One of the older girls offered her answer and he nodded, explaining how a good metaphor could enhance one's story. He gave them a few examples and asked them to come up with a few from their own life. "The more fanciful the better sometimes," he said.

~ ~ ~

He drove home through the snow on Friday night and later that weekend visited Green Gables to compare notes. As expected, Marilla invited him to dinner. Dinners at Green Gables were rowdier affairs now Marilla had adopted the twins. Gilbert presented Dora with the picture books, saying, "I borrowed these from the library at White Sands, so they aren't for keeps, Dora. I just thought you might like to read them."

Dora stroked the books reverently as Marilla expressed her thanks. "Thank Gilbert," she reminded the girl.

She looked up at him with tears welling in her eyes, "thank you Mr er Gilbert. They're beautiful."

Gilbert caught Davy's shoulder as he rushed over to look too. "Remember they're on loan, Davy no scribbling or tearing the pages, now." Davy looked at him indignantly but softened under Gilbert's unrelenting stern gaze. "I'll be careful, he said surlily.

"Would you like me to read one to you?" Gilbert asked. Dora nodded and settled by his side as he opened the first book. "Do you want to listen too, Davy?" he asked. Still upset Davy shook his head and sat sulking at the other side of the room, though Gilbert had a fair idea that he was listening. Bit by bit Davy crept closer as the story progressed until at last he was sitting by Gilbert's feet paying close attention.

After the children had been put to bed, Anne pulled out some of the work her class had submitted. "I couldn't help but laugh at some of these metaphors," she explained. "Here they are: Dry like a lump of wood; square like a cake tin; hot like a fire; wet like water, cold like snow, green like grassy horse saliva."

Gilbert laughed, "that last one is more imaginative at least, if a bit disgusting. Did Davy have a good one?" Gilbert felt for sure he would. Despite not being a wonderful scholar, Davy did not lack for imagination. "Yes, this is his," Anne said smiling. "Her hair was a curly as a pig's tail. Typical Davy bringing it down to earth. Do you have any good ones, Gilbert?"

"Um, let me go get them," he said. He opened his satchel and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

"These are from my older pupils," he explained.

"The lamp just sat there like an inanimate object. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre. He was as tall as a 6'3" tree. She had a deep throaty laugh like a dog just before it throws up."

"Oh Gilbert, that last one is terrible," said Marilla, laughing.

"I know but you can hear it can't you."

Marilla shuddered, " and now I wish I didn't have to."

"And here's Dora's," Anne said pulling the paper out. "The sky was crying like a little girl her family forgot."

There was a silence which Gilbert broke saying, "that's rather sad. Poor Dora."

"What do you mean, poor Dora? Marilla asked indignantly. "I doubt it's autobiographical. She's a very lucky little girl."

Gilbert paused with the two ladies looking at him pointedly. "Well, um, it's just you know…" he trailed off. Did they really not see how Dora was swamped by her rambunctious brother? "I suppose so," he finished lamely.

Anne read a few more, but Dora's words echoed in Gilbert's mind. He wasn't sure how he would manage it, but he was determined to give her more of a voice. At least to be the one to listen to her, if no one else would.


	6. Chapter 6

"Say, Anne, how's Dora these days?" They were sitting in the parlour one Sunday afternoon after lunch. Dora was visiting a school friend and Davy was outside with Milty; Gilbert didn't want to imagine what those two were getting up to, but so long as they didn't frighten the stock, Marilla pretty much gave them free rein.

"She's fine, why do you ask?"

"I don't know I just worry about her sometimes. It can't be easy being Davy's sister, you know. Since I've gotten to know her, I think how much I'd like a daughter one day."

"You've really taken an interest in her. I think that's sweet. She loves reading those picture books with you. It's become your thing."

"You look after her during the week, don't you? She greets me so warmly, for Dora at least." Gilbert was referring to the wide smile she bestowed upon him when he came to visit. Dora would never be as enthusiastic as her brother but in her own quiet way she got her message across.

"Whatever do you mean? Of course, we look after her, she's rather self-sufficient you know. Davy is, I don't know how to put it, he's just more demonstratively needy, Marilla recognises that we need to do more to bring him into line."

"Much as Marilla likes a challenge," Gilbert looked at Anne pointedly. "That doesn't mean Dora doesn't need help sometimes too. She's just a little girl and she lost her mother and her home, don't let her fade into the background because she's quieter."

"Gilbert Blythe, we will do no such thing," said Anne adamantly. "Don't let Marilla catch you speaking like that, we care for Dora as if she were our own. It's just she's easier is all, doesn't mean we ignore her, or love her less."

"Just make sure she knows that, that's all I'm saying. I know you love her, just make sure she knows it too."

"You're being ridiculous, Gilbert. Of course, she knows it."

Gilbert reflected on Anne's words on his way home. Anne might be the smartest girl he knew, but sometimes she was quite dim.

~ ~ ~

There was cheap picture book for sale in the White Sands general store which Gilbert picked up and thumbed through. The story was basic enough, but he thought they, he really meant Dora but incorporated Davy in his ruminations, might enjoy the illustrations. Counting out his coins he decided he could spare a couple for the children.

He presented it when he saw them that weekend. Dora took the book reverently in her hands while Davy glanced at it unappreciatively. "Remember your manners," Marilla chided, and he thanked Gilbert sparingly while Dora murmured a quiet, "thank you," through shining eyes. Her expression all the thanks Gilbert needed. Dora immediately made her way to the parlour where she sat on the sofa and reverently turned the pages picking out the odd word here and there. "You're too good to them," Marilla said. "I know you can't afford it, you really should be saving all your pennies."

"Yes, but I thought I could spare a few. I thought they would appreciate it."

"Well you're good to do it, it wasn't remotely necessary. But it looks like Dora appreciates it, even if Davy is ambivalent."

Gilbert laughed, "I didn't want him to be upset by my buying her a present and not him, but I'm not completely surprised he's disinterested, are you?"

"No," said Marilla reflectively. "He's not much for books, our Davy."

"Do you like it?" Gilbert asked Dora when he joined her.

"I love it, the pictures are so beautiful," Dora replied. "I can't read all the big words yet, but I love the story anyway. I've been making my own up next to the pictures."

"Tell me what you've come up with," said Gilbert sitting on the chair next to her. Dora told him her version of the story and then he read the real one out to her and together they decided that they liked hers better.

~ ~ ~

Dora crept downstairs early the next morning, she had wanted to sleep with the book under her pillow, but Marilla said she may not because it was their book not hers alone. It was to stay in the parlour not in the bedroom.

The book was not where Dora had left it, instead it was strewn around the floor torn up into a thousand pieces. Even the cover was ripped and seemed to be embers in the fire, its shape still discernible in the ashes. Dora stood stock still at first unable to process the horror before her then screamed, high and long and loud.

The family came pounding down the stairs; Anne followed by Marilla their nighties trailing behind and eventually Davy following slowly. "Oh Dora," Anne hugged her tight. "Darling, what a disaster. Whatever could have happened here?"

"You!" cried Dora rounding on her brother. "You did this. You!" she spat.

"Now, now don't blame Davy, there's no proof," Anne was fairly sure it was him, but she hated to make an accusation without evidence.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you," Dora flew at her brother.

He put his hands up to defend himself and cried, "it was just a stupid book anyways."

"Did you destroy the book, Davy?" Marilla asked him in that quiet voice that meant business.

He looked at them all defiantly and announced, "so what if I did?"

"Davy, darling. That was a terrible thing to do, come let us talk about it," said Anne gently.

Dora watched it all play out like it always did. Davy would get a talking to and be sent to bed without any supper. Tomorrow the whole thing would be forgotten, and life would go back to normal. No one in this house ever took her needs seriously; he got away with everything.

She loved Gilbert. Gilbert lived with his parents. Dora made up her mind to go and live with them too. When Marilla and Anne were talking to Davy, she crept out the back door. Her plan seemed so simple when she ran out the door, but as she drew closer to the Blythe house she was not sure what to do. She did not want to go home, but she wasn't quite brave enough to knock on the door. The barn beckoned, and she crept in hiding behind a pile of hay like a little mouse.

By milking time Dora was starving and starting to worry. Her resolve was wavering, but she feared the response at home if she returned. Outside a storm was rising and she heard the wind whistling around the building and worried even more. Voices alerted her to the moment when Gilbert and Mr Blythe entered and made their way over to the cows, "going to be a bit of a night son. Make sure the stock are safe."

"Yes Dad."

Gilbert was just setting up the cow, placing his hands on the warm teats just so and listening to the familiar tzz tzz of the milk hitting the side of the bucket when he thought he heard a small sob. He stopped to listen for a moment and heard the noise again under the rising wind. Getting up from the stool he went to investigate and soon located a small girl looking up at him teary eyed. "Dora! What on earth are you doing here?" He picked the little girl up and held her tight feeling the throb of her heart against his chest. "C'mon let's get you inside. How long have you been here?" He walked inside the house and said to his mother, "found a little stowaway in the barn, Ma."

"Dora! Goodness me, what are you doing here? John!" she called out to her husband. "You had better go and tell the Green Gable folk we have her safe."

"I'll go Dad," Gilbert offered.

"That's all right son, I think I'll have more of a chance of keeping Marilla from coming to fetch her. This storm is rising, I don't want anyone out in it who doesn't have to be.

The rain was just starting when John set out on his horse. The animal whinnied but he kicked it on. Water dripping from his hat brim, John pounded on the Green Gables door and told a startled Anne that they had Dora safe. "I'm not sure when she left?" Anne said. "We turned the place upside down looking for her." Marilla joined her in the doorway, "I'll just fetch my shawl," she said.

"No need. I don't fancy your chances getting back in this," John glanced up at the windswept branches. "And I don't want Dora catching her death. We'll keep her with us for the night. You can come and pick her up in the morning."

"If you're sure it's no trouble?" Marilla said.

"No trouble at all, we'll be pleased to have her," John replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave." He splashed his way back to his horse and rode off into the storm disappearing from sight almost immediately.

Gilbert and his mother were keeping Dora company in the kitchen. She was much happier after a cookie and a glass of milk. The stove burned warmly while outside the whistling wind could barely be heard through the sturdy walls.

"Do you remember much of your story, Dora?" Gilbert asked.

"You mean the one from the book?"

"Mm hm," Gilbert nodded.

"Most of it," she said.

"How about you tell me it again and I write it out for you."

"It was the pictures I liked most," she said sadly.

"Well I have a plan for that too. I'm sure Ma has some crayons around somewhere so we can do our own drawings. Then we can put the pieces of paper together in a book ourselves. Would you like that?"

They set themselves up at the kitchen table while Mrs Blythe chopped the vegetables for dinner. Watching her boy working with the little girl, the two of them completely engrossed in their project Cora thought how sweet he was.

After dinner they continued their work now sprawled out across the parlour floor, Gilbert's long legs folding under him awkwardly. Marilla wouldn't have approved, Dora thought, but Mrs Blythe didn't seem to mind.

Dora jumped at a thunderclap and immediately yawned. "Right," said Mrs Blythe. "I think we should get you into bed, you can sleep with me. Mr Blythe will take the spare bed, won't you dear?" John nodded. It wasn't all that comfortable but little Dora was more important. Cora helped Dora out of her dress and found an old nightgown. The child fairly swam in it. "I should say my prayers," said Dora and she knelt down on the side of the bed with her hands pressed together and thanked God for the Blythes which made Cora's heart squeeze and hoped he would look after her mother which caused a tear. Dora's last thought before sleep over came her was that Mrs Blythe smelt like lavender just like her mother.

The storm had blown itself out by next morning and the world looked bright and new, all sparkly in the sunlight. Dora was eating pancakes in the kitchen enjoying the peace and quiet. At home Davy would be talking about something stupid, probably very loudly and she'd be wishing she was somewhere else. But here she could eat in companionable silence, she wanted to look at her book, but durst not get her sticky fingers on it.

"I'll take her home, Mum," Gilbert offered. He had an ulterior motive, naturally it would mean he got a chance to see Anne.

"I had a hunt around, and I thought you might like this, Dora," Cora said handing a little box over to the girl. She opened it and gasped, inside were all the crayons she had been drawing with the night before. "I thought you might like to keep telling stories, Dora. You seem so good at it."

When they got back to Green Gables, Dora was warmly greeted. They'd decided not to make a big fuss of her antics the night before. After all she was safe and well cared for. "No harm done," said Marilla leading Dora back into the house. "Coffee?" Anne asked Gilbert who walked in after the women. The children ran upstairs. Dora to check that her bedroom was undisturbed and Davy because he wanted to talk to her.

"Thank you," said Marilla when they were seated around the kitchen table.

"It was no bother. I rather think Ma liked caring for a little girl for a change. Makes a difference from us hulking men," he said with a grin.

In the bedroom Dora was satisfied that everything was undisturbed. Davy hung in her doorway. "What?" she asked him.

He looked downwards, "missed you," he whispered. "What was it like, I want to know? Did you get cake for dinner?"

"It was normal, dinner tasted a bit different, but it was good." Dora thought about her bedtime and said to him, "you know Mrs Blythe reminds me of Mama."

"Mama?" said Davy scornfully. "She doesn't look a bit like Mama."

"Not in looks no, but she smells a bit like Mama."

"Oh," said Davy. He hadn't thought about their mother's scent for a long time. Even when she was on her death bed the children liked to cuddle up on either side of her drinking in that warm and comforting smell; feeling somehow that all was right with the world if they were still together. Desperate to recapture that, Davy turned around and raced down the stairs and out the door closely followed by Dora.

Cora was most surprised a few minutes later to find a panting Davy Keith on her doorstep, "goodness Davy, what can I do fo…" she stopped when the child grabbed a handful of her apron and inhaled deeply. Dora was right behind Davy and she looked towards her in confusion but before she could speak, Davy had whirled around and screamed at his sister, "she does not! You lied to me, Dora. She doesn't smell like her. I hate you!"

Marilla, Anne and Gilbert arrived to hear the end of the sentence and the rejoinder when Dora screeched back at her brother, "I hate you too, you ruin everything!"

As they screamed at each other Marilla made as if to separate them. "Best leave them to it, I think. Nothing like a bang-up argument to clear the air," Cora suggested. "Come and have some coffee, the kettle should be boiling any minute." The women traipsed into the house leaving the children outside, still telling each other in no uncertain terms what they thought of each other.

Gilbert and Anne hung back ostensibly to stop the children from hurting each other, though really Gilbert just wanted time alone with Anne. He had gotten over the fumbling he'd suffered when he first fell in love, but he still felt a little awkward around her especially if Marilla was in the vicinity. He had an inkling Marilla had clued into his closely guarded secret.

The argument had settled into glaring rather than screeching, though Gilbert could see it would take a while before they could speak sensibly. Cora appeared with a plate of cookies with coffee for them and milk for the younger children. Somewhat mollified the children sat on a bench, legs swinging under them as they nibbled on their cookies and sipped their milk. Dora couldn't help smiling at Davy's milk moustache but stopped when she remembered how much she hated him.

Marilla and Cora joined them, sitting down on either side of the children and Marilla said, "would either of you mind telling us what that was all about?" Davy and Dora looked at each other and both burst into tears. Not because they were particularly worried about their behaviour, but from the confusing emotions they felt. Marilla wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back, "there, there," she said, feeling completely out of her depth.

"Can you tell us anything, Davy?" Anne asked gently, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his nose and mouth just as he was about to use the back of his hand to accomplish the same task. "Dora said she," he said looking at Cora, "smelt like Mama, but she don't."

"Mrs Blythe," chided Marilla.

"I smell like your mother?" Cora clarified.

"Uh huh," said Dora. "I think you must use the same perfume."

"Lavender water," explained Cora. "Maybe your Mama used it too." She turned to Gilbert, "go and fetch it from my dressing table will you darling." When he returned, he handed the bottle to his mother who dabbed a little on her hand and held it out for Davy to smell. He nodded after a little sniff. "I like it because it's such a pleasant aroma. I expect your mother did too," Cora explained. "But it must have made you sad to smell it again, darling. Was that the problem?"

"Uh huh," he said angrily wiping the tears from his eyes. He did not like to cry in front of Gilbert.

"I forget," Marilla said when the children had moved off with Gilbert and Anne. "How emotional it all must be for them."

"They've been through a lot," said Cora. "Mostly I suppose they hide it, especially Davy, but I expect it's a continual undercurrent for the poor little mites."

"I expect so, we shall have to remember. Thank you," said Marilla patting Cora on the hand. "Sometimes I feel quite at sea, Davy is a handful."

Cora laughed, "I'm sure. Well you know who he reminds me of?" Marilla looked at her quizzically. "Gilbert was just the same, curious and crazy. Never mean spirited but just slightly out of control. Of course he didn't have a sister to torment," Cora's breath hitched slightly. "I expect he will settle down and you'll miss these days."

"I can't wait," said Marilla hugging Cora tight. "Well we better get them home. Thank you for everything." She called to Anne and the children and they made their way back home, listening to Dora tell them about her night away and all the pictures she planned to draw.


	7. Chapter 7

Just privately Gilbert wasn't too keen on the name A.V.I.S. It reminded him of his cranky maternal grandmother Mavis. Mavis Haigh was a small slender woman, all angles with a sharp bitter tongue who hated her husband with a passion. Dinners spent at her house were ordeals to be endured as she spent every waking moment declaiming how awful her husband was and how terrible their marriage had been. Every story was recounted at length with interjections upon his very ghastliness. All that would have been bad enough had the poor man been deceased, but as he sat ruefully at the head of the table whilst his unhappy wife poured scorn upon him, it was utterly unbearable. Gilbert and his parents had to sit at the table for interminable hours listening to her ranting and raving and when they eventually escaped his father would say, 'never again.' Gilbert would hope against hope that he would be true to his word, but his mother always caved. Explaining that they had to do right by the old couple, if only in commiseration with her poor father.

It had been Anne's project naturally and she had bestowed the name upon it with such gusto that he hadn't the heart to deny her. He joined the group of course because they all did and after all it brought her into closer proximity. Although admittedly he experienced fleeting remorse when he drove home on a Friday afternoon leaving behind invitations to White Sands parties, though this was short lived for the most part.

* * *

One wet Saturday Gilbert paid a call to Green Gables to find the place in uproar. Dora was in tears because her favourite doll was missing, with Davy adamant it had nothing to do with him. With her usual favouritism Anne refused to lay the blame at his feet. Marilla was unable to help being laid up upstairs with a sick headache. Which left Anne desperately trying to soothe Dora or at least to dampen down her accusations while Davy loudly declaimed his innocence. "Hush," she said to Davy. "We don't want to disturb Marilla."

"It's nothing to do with me," yelled Davy over Dora's cries. "Why does everyone always blame me?" Anne looked up at Gilbert's approach and looked at him helplessly.

"Right," said Gilbert taking Davy by the arm. "C'mon give me a hand in the barn will you Davy."

"But it's nearly morning teatime and I don't want to miss out on the cake," whined Davy, his mind as always lodged firmly in his stomach.

"Here," said Anne grimly as she cut off a wedge for the boy. "Now go with Gilbert, there's a good boy." She wrapped the piece up in a napkin and handed it to Gilbert over Davy's outstretched hands saying, "no you've only just finished breakfast, the cake can wait an hour or so."

Gilbert looked back at her ruefully and followed Davy out the door into the wet yard. "What are we gonna do now, Gilbert? I want to know," said Davy grumpily. It had been warm and dry inside and he didn't know why he had been forced out into the weather.

"Come over to the barn with me," Gilbert said as he started splashing through the rain hardly caring that Davy was ruining his boots by jumping in every available puddle. Gilbert was grumpy too; he'd been looking forward to seeing Anne and now it seemed their time together was to be truncated. As water ran down the back of his neck Gilbert looked at the small damp boy standing in the dark barn with the sound of the rain drumming on the roof and thought, now what?

"Um, now let's see," Gilbert thought quickly. It's not like he had no experience with small boys, but Davy wasn't his pupil and really, he had no authority. "How about we make something for Marilla?" he suggested.

"Like what?"

"Hm, I don't know. A box maybe, for putting her mending in?" suggested Gilbert. Davy looked at him quizzically but joined in the search for spare pieces of timber to use. They decided it was a project that might take them a few weeks, all they could do on this day was plan. "We'll make a list when we get back inside," Gilbert said.

"I'm cold, can we go back now?" said Davy. Gilbert had been so caught up he'd hardly noticed how chilly it had gotten and he was shocked to see that it was sleeting. "I guess so," he said. "Yeah let's head back in but keep quiet now or Anne will get cross."

"Women!" said Davy rolling his eyes which made Gilbert grin inwardly, the boy did have a point.

With the children sufficiently calmed down, Anne and Gilbert readied the parlour for the next AVIS meeting. "I'll just go and check on Marilla," Anne said returning shortly afterwards announcing that Marilla was sound asleep. "I'm pleased," she said. "She suffers so with those headaches. I was worried that the twins' argument might keep her awake."

Gilbert's annoyance dissipated, the last thing he wanted was for Marilla to suffer. "So long as the meeting is quiet, I suppose."

"Oh yes, good point. We'll have to make sure no one gets too excited," Anne said thoughtfully as she laid out the cookies on a plate. Gilbert thought that was unlikely, the meetings usually weren't that contentious.

Unfortunately, things did not go to plan.

Oliver Sloane made the suggestion that the hall could be painted since the structure looked terribly dowdy. Diana thought the idea of painting the hall was ridiculous and wanted to install planter boxes instead. Oliver's brother Charlie wanted something more permanent. Their argument grew quite heated with them all talking loudly over the others trying to get their point across and the others looking on helplessly.

Under strict instructions to behave themselves Davy and Dora had been sitting quietly in the corner but when Davy heard about planter boxes, he rushed out of the room leaving Dora in his wake. He reappeared twenty minutes later dripping mud over the rug. "I got you some flowers, Diana," he announced proudly. Indeed he had, he held a sad bunch in one dirty hand, the bedraggled plants had been plucked roots and all from some flowerbed. "Where did you get those from, Davy?" Anne asked him in exasperation.

"Oh, just around," said Davy airily. "Diana said she wanted planter boxes and I knew where some good plants were."

"Let's take these outside and I'll scrub the rug," Anne said with a sigh. Next she heard a cough upstairs and she realised that the hubbub had disturbed poor Marilla. "Hush everyone!" she urged as she rushed out of the room. Diana took charge ordering most of the group out and staying behind to help clear up the mess.

* * *

The rain had poured itself out the next day and the world was shiny and bright when Gilbert knocked on the Green Gables door. "Come in," he heard the faint reply and upon walking in found the house eerily quiet. "It's just me," Marilla said quietly. "Anne's taken the children to town to give me a break."

"Is your head still sore?" Gilbert enquired gently.

"Little bit," replied Marilla holding herself quite upright as though any sudden movement might cause her pain. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Let me," said Gilbert. "You really don't look quite right yet Marilla, if you don't mind me saying."

Imperceptibly Marilla shook her head, "no, you're quite right. I'm not."

"By rights I think you should still be in bed, have you got any powders?"

"No, Anne was fetching me some. I'll be all right, I can wait til she comes home, but coffee sounds nice if you're sure you don't mind."

Gilbert rummaged in the pantry and found some cake, "looks like Davy left us a slice or two," he said setting the tin down on the table.

"That was nice of him," Marilla said with a smile. "That boy does love his cake."

"Must be gratifying to have such a fan of your cooking living with you," said Gilbert cheekily.

Marilla smiled, "I suppose you could put it that way. He's certainly enthusiastic, I'll say that for him."

"How's Dora?"

"I'm teaching Dora embroidery, unlike another daughter of mine she has an aptitude for it already," Marilla said smiling gently. "Thank you," she added when Gilbert placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. "How is work?"

"Good, the children seem to be enjoying my teaching methods for the most part. Some are more enthusiastic than others."

"That's to be expected I'm sure. Even Anne is struggling to bring some of her pupils around. Ah that's nice," she added after she sipped her coffee.

"So, I've heard. Well mine may not be quite such tough nuts to crack as Jeremy Pye but it's the apathy I find hard to manage. Some of the big boys think it's all a waste of time, they'd rather be out in the fields with their fathers I suspect. Keeping them engaged is quite a struggle. Poetry readings and writing papers must seem a colossal waste of time to them, but it's my job to keep them there until the end of the year."

"I suppose a bored student takes the others down with him?"

"That's the problem. They get bored and muck up and the others join in the fun. I never thought about the teacher's predicament before. I don't know how Miss Stacy managed."

"Have you considered writing her?" Marilla said. "She might have some good suggestions and I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

Gilbert looked at her, "I suppose so," he said reluctantly.

"Don't be worried that she might think less of you for asking, Gilbert. In my experience folk love to share their knowledge with people just starting out. I reckon she'll take it as a compliment that you asked in the first place. She'd love to be your mentor, I'm sure."

"Hm," Gilbert said reflectively. "Maybe I will."

Marilla took another sip of her coffee and set it down saying, "I think I will go up to bed since you suggest it. I'm feeling a bit woozy."

"Do you need a hand?" Asked Gilbert concernedly as she swayed when she got to her feet.

Marilla blinked rapidly so he took her arm and guided her upstairs. He paused in her doorway, he'd never been inside before, and it felt wrong to enter. The room seemed austere in comparison with his parents' with just the bed, a chair and a chest of drawers with a few items arranged on top. Still Marilla obviously needed him. She sat shakily down on the bed and looked at her boots and then up at him.

"Oh, yes. I expect you'll need a hand, won't you?"

"It's just it hurts to bend down," Marilla explained. Gilbert knelt and undid her buckles and lifted the shoes off her stockinged feet. Then he pulled the covers off the bed and helped the old lady lie back, plumping her pillows for her first. "Do you want me to close the curtains, Marilla?" He asked but she had her eyes shut tightly already. Tip toeing over to the window he let the blind down, so the room was doused in gloom. "Mm," she murmured. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"I'll tell Anne."

"Thank you," he said as he backed out of the room quietly.

Gilbert quickly rinsed the coffee cups and set them to dry. Next he jotted a note for Anne bring the twins over for afternoon tea when you get back, Ma's been asking after them. This was a fib, but he knew his mother would be pleased to see them and it would give Marilla a longer rest.

Well if Anne wasn't home and Marilla was laid up, Gilbert thought he had better go home. He had a letter to write.

"Gilbert? Is that you?" his father called when Gilbert approached. "Come into the barn, I need a hand here."

Gilbert strode over quickly and quickly apprised the situation. His father had been fixing the plough and the machinery lay scattered over the floor. "I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew here," John said ruefully brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Can you give me a hand?" Gilbert knelt down next to his father and together they started the process of putting the machine back together. So engrossed in their task were they that the fact that he'd invited the twins over quite left Gilbert's mind, and he was only reminded when he dimly heard his mother calling. "Uh oh," he said to his father.

"What?" said John delicately balancing one piece of the plough against another.

"I forgot to tell Ma." John looked up in confusion and watched as Gilbert rushed away, broken shards of hay scattering under his feet. "Gi…" he called after his son, but the young man had dashed away leaving John precariously balancing two heavy pieces.

"Sorry, Ma," he said as he skidded up. "I meant to tell you."

"I mean I don't mind, Gilbert. But a little warning would have been nice."

"Yeah, yeah I meant to tell you but I um. Oh!" he swivelled back to return to his father realising where he'd left him.

"You may as well go too," said Cora giving Davy a little push then looking down at Dora she suggested, "how about we do some baking, darling?"

* * *

Having dropped the children off to a somewhat bemused Mrs Blythe Anne hurried home. She had been delighted to see Gilbert's note not least because Davy had been somewhat high spirited during their trip to town and she wasn't sure how to keep him quiet for Marilla. She'd been disturbed by the meeting yesterday and Anne wanted her to have a nice quiet day to recuperate. Hanging her coat on the peg by the door she stopped for a moment drinking in the atmosphere.

"Mm?" murmured Marilla when Anne entered the gloomy room.

"Sh now, I've just delivered the twins to the Blythes for the afternoon," Anne explained. "You can have a lovely rest."

Marilla roused enough to ask for some help, "I could hardly ask Gilbert, but I need a hand getting undressed."

"Oh dear, of course not," Anne said with a smile. She helped Marilla into her nightie, kissed her cheek and tip toed out of the room. With a cup of tea in front of her Anne settled down at the kitchen table to do some marking relishing the peace and quiet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows the events of Chapter 12, A Jonah Day in Anne of Avonlea

Davy had been put to work sweeping the yard. Gilbert found him standing by a pile of leaves scratching his head. "You got nits Davy boy?" Gilbert asked cheekily.

"What? Oh, it's you Gilbert. Nits, ha ha, that's funny."

"I don't suppose Marilla would let a louse within in earshot of Green Gables, would she?"

"No chance," said Davy shuddering at the thought. Marilla was an aggressive washer of hair at the best of times; he couldn't imagine what it'd be like if she ever found a louse on his person. "Although on second thoughts do you think I could keep one as a pet? I've been asking Marilla to let me have a dog and she's said no cos they're so big and messy. A louse is nice and small."

"A pet nit? No, I don't think so, Davy boy. I can't see Marilla agreeing to that. Hard to keep them contained I'd expect."

"Hm, well it was worth a shot," Davy said reflectively.

"Is Anne home?" Gilbert asked to change the subject since Davy seemed set on acquiring a pet of any stripe.

"She had a bad week, 'spect she'll want to tell you all about it. Women just love to tell you every little bad thing, why is that Gilbert, I want to know?" Gilbert shrugged, it was a fair question actually but not one he knew the answer to.

* * *

Gilbert heard a cut off exclamation and the tinny sound of something landing on the floor as he went to knock and decided he had better just walk in uninvited. He found Marilla standing over an upside-down baking tray sucking her thumb. "Everything all right?" he said.

She frowned down at her cookies and up at him, "not really. The cloth slipped and I burnt myself on the tray," she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and examined it closely.

"Let me see," Gilbert said taking her work worn hand in his own, a tell-tale red mark was all the evidence he needed.

"I don't have any butter left," said Marilla in some annoyance. "I think Davy ate the last of it on his toast this morning. I was going to churn some more this afternoon." She winced when Gilbert brushed her thumb lightly.

"Sorry, burns are painful aren't they." Gilbert went to the sink and pumped out a cupful of water. "Try this instead," he said placing it down on the kitchen table.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Ma swears by it, hold it in the water until it doesn't hurt."

"Water? What good is water? My mother always used butter it gets better in the end." She looked at Gilbert and begrudgingly did as he suggested. She raised her eyebrows but was otherwise silent when the cold water hit her damaged digit.

"Is that better?" Gilbert enquired gently.

Marilla nodded and smiled up at him, "yes thank you that does soothe it, I apologise for doubting you."

"That's all right, I know most folks prefer butter, but I find water more effective."

Anne came rushing down the stairs, "I thought I heard something, are you quite well Marilla, oh!" she stopped at the foot of the stairs and took in the sight of Gilbert picking up the baking tray.

"Little accident," said Marilla. "So silly of me."

"Let me see," said Anne. Marilla showed her dripping thumb to Anne momentarily before putting back in the cup. "That does look painful, does the water help?"

"It does strangely enough. What is it Rachel says? You never stop learning til you're dead. Thank you, Gilbert."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

* * *

"Davy said you had a bad week," Gilbert said when they were alone at last. "Want to tell me about it?"

Anne sighed, "you'll laugh. Oh, why do all the terrible things happen when you're at your lowest? She described her Jonah day and Gilbert had to fight back a smile when she told him about the fireworks in the stove and then the mouse in her desk. "That does sound trying."

"I was already in a foul mood and then all that had to happen. It's as if someone had it in for me."

"Then what did you do?"

"Oh, that's the worst thing about it, I lost my temper and caned Anthony Pye."

"Oh Anne," Gilbert's heart broke for her a little bit. Ever since Marilla had told him about Anne's past, her attitude towards corporal punishment made complete sense. He knew how her capitulation must have wounded her.

"Marilla consoled me, but I felt just awful about it, Gilbert. I tried so hard, but mice," she shuddered. "And, and," tears welled in her eyes once more and she angrily wiped them away. Gilbert loved her for her passion in that moment. Unbeknownst to them both she was behaving very like Marilla; unwilling to show her vulnerability. Have you whipped any of your students Gil?"

Gilbert's heart leapt, Anne had never called him Gil before. "What? Oh yes, I don't do it lightly but I've had to a couple of times when they get out of hand. I was always so impressed that you managed without it actually."

"Well you can stop being impressed because in the end I caved. Poor Anthony, I had hoped I could reach him through love but now he'll hate me more than ever." Tears brimmed in her big grey eyes as she looked at him. "It was such an awful day. It took all my willpower to make it back to the classroom the next day, but I couldn't let it beat me and they were all such dears the next day."

"It'll remind them that you may be sweet Miss Shirley most of the time, but you're no pushover," Gilbert reminded her. "Doesn't sound too awful really when you think about it. Come now it's not the end of the world, Anne."

"I suppose so, it feels good to speak to another teacher about it. Marilla means well but she's never been in charge of a whole classroom."

"She might say that Davy causes as much trouble as a whole class," Gilbert said with a smile.

Anne laughed, "she probably would at that."

Gilbert recounted Anne's day to his mother and she laughed when the firecrackers exploded. "Poor Anne," she said thoughtfully. "That does sound like a trying day. Maybe it was …" but then she remembered to whom she was talking, and she bit off her comment.

"Must have been what, Ma?"

"Er, very frustrating," Cora added though it was apparent to Gilbert that she meant to say something else entirely. He was reminded of Davy's remark earlier, because it seemed like his mother had wanted to say more but stopped herself in time. He looked at her curiously, but Cora just stared blankly back with a small seemingly innocent smile.

"What? What were you going to say?"

"Say? Me? Nothing at all," she replied, disingenuously he thought. "Very difficult for poor Anne, is all. Isn't that enough?"

Later over coffee at Rachel's house Cora felt freer to talk. "Must have been her time of the month don't you think. Anne is usually so calm, but I recall I was always very irritable just beforehand."

Rachel snorted, "it's interesting isn't it. I never thought anyone would describe Anne as calm, but you're right. She's grown up into a fine young lady. Anyway, I agree with you, it's certainly a possibility. I don't miss it I'll say it out loud."

"Well who does? All that messing about with hooks and rags and the extra washing. Not to mention the irritability and the cramps," Cora shuddered. "I suppose I was a bit sad when I knew there was no chance of another child, but you'd have to say it did free me up."

"Quite so," said Rachel thinking how different her experience had been. She had ten children, more than enough for any woman but poor Cora only ever had the one living baby. Gilbert was a lovely son; but she was sure Cora and John would have liked to give him a brother or sister. Rachel was quite content when her courses ceased but she appreciated that not everyone felt the same way.

* * *

True to form Rachel spread the gossip at the Ladies' Aid the next day. The story soon got away from her and before she knew it, she heard someone say that poor Anne had leaked all over her petticoats and had to rush out. It was at that point that Marilla overheard the story sotto voce. "Yes, that's right," said Mrs Boulter to Mrs Gillis, "all over her skirts so I heard tell. Wouldn't you die of mortification." Both women tittered behind their gloved hands.

"What's that?" Marilla asked sternly. "Why would you be mortified?"

Mrs Boulter resembled a child caught with her hands in the cookie jar when she said, "your girl was caught short, so they say."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Marilla said with a frown. "Has the whole world gone mad today or something?"

Mrs Pye was the brave soul who replied, "we are talking about your Anne. She disgraced herself at school the other day, or so I hear tell."

"Fiddlesticks!" said Marilla. "She's hardly the first woman to have succumbed to such drastic actions. You can hardly call it a disgrace."

The other ladies who had been looking for Marilla's reaction now turned their gaze towards Mrs Pye. "Well I do," she reiterated. "Anne should have been better prepared. One should always have something to hand to deal with that situation. It's not as though it's her first time."

"As it happens it was," Marilla replied steadily. "She's never done it before; is quite set against it."

"I beg your pardon Miss Cuthbert, what you're saying doesn't make any sense. Are you telling me a grown woman of seventeen hadn't commenced their courses?"

"Courses?" Marilla was confused. "I was saying Anne had never used corporal punishment before. Why are we talking about menstruation all of a sudden?"

"That's what we're discussing," Mrs Pye said slowly, wondering if Marilla were being purposefully dim or if she were somewhat addled. "Anne had an accident and bled all over her skirts. When they were stained through, she had to rush home."

"Anne did no such thing," Marilla remonstrated. "I do the laundry I can assure you nothing of the sort happened. what i was talking about was that Anne resorted to corporal punishment for the first time, it had nothing to do with her time of the month. I must say I am dismayed you women are discussing that in public, it's not as though that particular accident hasn't happened to anyone before, but as it turns out that is not what Anne was upset about. She is set against corporal punishment of any sort.

"Can't think why," replied Mrs Pye. "It's a perfectly natural method."

"Yes well, it looks as though it must be in your house," said Marilla.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your Anthony was the one who was caned. Anne said his behaviour sent her over the edge. Mice in her desk draw I believe was the tipping point. If Anthony had a speck of respect for her role he would never have behaved in that matter. I would be ashamed if my son acted that way."

"If I can recall, didn't your charge Davy Keith tip a caterpillar down Lauretta White's dress at church one morning? Terrible behaviour, and on the Sabbath too. Don't tell me he didn't get a thrashing when you got home?"

"We don't thrash our children at Green Gables," replied Marilla icily. "He was sent to bed without any supper, but he was not whipped then and never will be."

"Spare the rod and spoil the child, don't they say?" responded Mrs Pye.

"Yes, well that has never been our way. Anne prefers to get through to the children with love and I agree with her. Beating a child only teaches them that violence is the answer. Anne may have caned your Anthony that one time but I doubt she'll do it again.

* * *

"Perhaps a little less beating at home and a little more love might bring Anthony around," Marilla said to Anne that night after the children had been put to bed. "I couldn't bear to whip you and I can't abide the idea of doing it to little Davy. He may be mischief personified but I can't see the point?"

"Quite," agreed Anne. "I shouldn't have hit Anthony I know, but it was an exasperating day."

Marilla kept the Aids' opinions to herself. Just privately she agreed with them, it probably was that time of the month, but Anne would have been mortified to know what the town had been discussing that afternoon.


End file.
